A Study of a Student Under Soles

Tim lets the rain pour down on him despite his umbrella being tucked away on the side of his backpack. From his school bag to the shirt on his back to the socks on his feet, he's soaking wet as he trudges through the waterlogged sidewalk. He doesn't run, he doesn't find shelter somewhere; Tim is disheartened. Just a few minutes ago he got out of his final exam of the semester. For some that is an event worthy of celebration, but he is sure he's just flunked the exam and in the class that he was already teetering into failing. Now his future was cemented. The thought of redoing the course hurt but he couldn't progress without it. He knew he was going to be spending the summer taking classes which meant he had to stay at his dorm room studying for the whole summer break, rather than going back home.

It's so late most of the lights in the windows are shut off and the place is deserted. Because his exam took place in a different building than his classes, he finds himself passing the social science building where the dreaded psychology class is; the one he no doubt failed and the one that is going to be eating away his summer.

The door to the social science building swings open and a woman in a long, dark jacket with her hood up, steps out. She is wheeling out a cart filled with boxes and is trying to quick step it to her car when she sees Tim. She pauses briefly then runs back inside to find cover for whatever she is wheeling.

"Tim?" He recognizes the voice and wants to run. It is his Psychology teacher Ms. Messina, the woman who probably has his failed exam right there. "Tim is that you?" She continues.

"Uhh. Oh. Yeah. Hi Dr. Messina." Tim says plainly, the rain still splashing down on him.

"Come on, get inside!" She says, stepping back to make way for him.

He briefly considers saying 'No thanks' and continues walking home, but he worries that would be strange or rude so he scampers over and joins her away from the rain.

"It's really coming down, huh?" She tries to make small talk as they watch the sheets of water fall from the sky.

"Yeah..." Tim searches for better words but he finds none. Not even 20 minutes ago he was taking her exam.

"Do you have a ride home?" She asks.

"Oh. No. It's fine if I can walk." He says.

"Look at it out there, you can't walk home in that. You're already soaked." Dr. Messina is right, but Tim has no intention of staying with his professor for one moment longer.

"It's fine-" Tim begins but a blast of thunder cuts him off. It causes him to jump.

"It is definitely not fine! Not if it's lightning as well. Come up to my office, we can stay there until the storm stops." Dr. Messina declares and as Tim is trying to make an excuse to leave she is already on her way.

--

Deanna Messina is a 45 year old Psychology professor. That's known already, of course, but what is notable is Deanna's extensive research into the field of hypnosis. She's teaching first year psychology at the University to give her a place and a wage so she can complete her latest paper, one titled "An Analysis of Complete Subjugation of the Mind Through Hypnosis." What interests her about hypnosis is how the mind can be moulded into parody of itself, into something which is the same but in certain ways entirely different. Can ideas, feelings, desires, and the like be altered to be the polar opposite of what they are.

Deanna is not spiritual but even she had to admit, the opportunity that presented itself when she stumbled upon Tim Reynolds was so serendipitous she could almost believe something was looking out for her.

The boy was sitting on the chair across from her desk. He looks cold in his wet clothes. He looks uncomfortable, like his eyes don't know where to look. He looks delicious.

"I'll make you some tea," She says, ignoring his refusal. "Nonsense, you look like you're freezing. My tea will warm you up." She takes out the kettle from on top of the shelf before unlocking the drawer of her desk.

"Why do you keep your tea locked in a drawer?" Tim speaks up.

"Believe it or not, these tea leaves are the most valuable things in this office to me. Or, among the most. I got them on a trip to Africa several years ago and haven't found any I like as much since." Deanna explains. She is telling most of the truth, but in actuality their value comes not from their taste but rather from its psychological effects. The tea leaves sedate and entrance the drinker, just enough to get their mind pliable.

Deanna pours a bottle of water from her mini-fridge into the kettle and flips it on, the element beneath the liquid begins to heat up and soon the water starts to simmer.

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to use one of the tea bags on me-" Tim starts but is cut off by Deanna. "Nonsense. You need to drink something warm. You'll catch a cold."

After the water boils, Deanna fills a cup with it and inserts the teabag. She lets it brew as they speak. "How did you find the exam?" She asks.

"Oh. Um. Yeah. It was- it was good but there were some tough questions." He says but she knows the truth. He's been struggling all year and from his face during the exam she could tell he was struggling still. It was a shame, she thought, she did like him but he didn't quite get the concepts and never seemed to study enough. He didn't have the right drive. She could give him that. She could give him the motivation to do any number of things.

"Tim, you're a good student but you could do more." Blunt but true.

Tim hangs his head. "Yeah... I know."

"But enough worrying about that for now. You can't do anything to change it at the moment so try to move on to other things. Here's your tea." She hands him the warm mug.

He blew on the liquid to cool it down then lifted the mug to his lips. As soon as he swallowed his first sip, her plan was officially underway.

In order to research hypnosis, she needed a subject. She could get people to volunteer but then her experiments would be viewed and judged by the public. In the comfort of her own office with a subject who doesn't even know they're her subject, Deanna could capture his mind and use it for her tests. Can someone have their entire personality rewritten? Why does the mind let itself be totally dominated? What happens to the self when free will is stripped away? Is the entranced mind the real mind? So many questions and many more to follow.

Her guinea pig drinks more of the tea and smiles. "This is good. I see why you've kept it under lock and key."

She smirks. And it was a bonus that she enjoys the boys' company, too.

"You should take off that jacket." Dr. Messina says. "Your shoes and socks too. They're soaking wet."

He couldn't disagree with her so he took off his wet jacket as well with his shoes and socks and immediately he felt better. Deanna was glad to see him already obeying her orders but she felt that the boy was meek already so him being submissive did not mean successful results from her tea.

Deanna Messina wheels her chair around her desk so she is no more than a couple of feet away from him. She asks "Do you mind if I take my heels off?" He shakes his head and takes another sip of his tea. She reaches down and takes her heels off, slipping her pantyhose feet out.

She notices that he doesn't look at her feet. "Tim, can I tell you about a paper I'm writing?"

Tim is lost in thought, occasionally sipping his tea that sends warmth down throughout his body yet muddles his brain. He finds he can't focus on much, as if he was high on weed. "Sure..." He finds the word.

"It's about the brain and specifically the mind. I find the concept of identity fascinating, the idea that the mind creates an image of itself which in turn dictates our actions, thoughts and feelings. Essentially, my perspective is that the mind has a certain idea of what it is and that's what determines what we do. My mind sees myself as a psychologist and a professor, someone who is studious, academic, but also sexy." Dr. Messina explains, Tim is lost instantly but he catches the word 'sexy' and frowns. "And because this is how I perceive myself, I thus act in accordance with that self-image."

Deanna lifts one foot and drops her heel on Tim's knee. At this point Tim's eyes are fading and his body is growing limp, he barely perceives her foot on his leg. "Doctor...." He frowns. "I don't feel good. I feel... strange..."

"Nonsense dear, you feel fantastic. That's what the tea does, it makes you feel good." She explains and he can't disagree, but the daze he was in was foreign and new to him, he wants to move but has no energy.

"As I was saying," Dr. Messina continues, "the mind determines what it is and thus what we are. My hypothesis is that if one can change the identity the mind constructs, one can change the mind itself and one can mold an entire personality to suit one's liking." Tim is lost. She expands, "one is me. I believe I can mold someone's will to whatever I like."

Tim frowns. "Like... mind control?"

"Yes. But deeper. Not just mere control, total domination. A complete subjugation of the mind, as in the title of my paper." She says plainly. "I'm currently in the research phase. You see Tim, I need to test it on a blank slate. I need to capture someone's mind, mold it into something entirely different, and write down my findings."

"Capture...?" Tim's eyes shut but he pulls them back open before being overcome with a long yawn.

"Yes, capture." Dr. Messina watches the boy struggle to stay conscious. With her foot still resting on his knee, Deanna flexes her toes to see if that would draw Tim's attention but it doesn't. Deanna was proud of her feet, they were sexy even to those who didn't appreciate feet so she knew that if he didn't at least glance down at them, clad in pantyhose, he probably doesn't have a foot fetish, but she decides to make sure.

"Tim, you may rest your eyes but you must listen to me still. Hear my words and respond with the truth." She instructs. From her desk she pulls out a notepad along with a pen and she jots down his name. "How old are you, Tim?"

"19." He says as his eyes gradually shut, she writes it down.

"Do you have a job?"

"No... I just do school." His voice sounds like it's lost in a dream.

"Girlfriend? Boyfriend?" She asks.

Tim shakes his head. "No"

"Are you a virgin?"

"Yes."

Deanna smiles and makes a mental note to jot down that for her studies, later. "What are your plans for your future?"

Tim is quiet for a moment long enough to cause Deanna to worry that the tea effect somehow worn off, but then the boy spoke up. "I... I'm not sure. I think I'll have to take another year of school but I hate it. I don't know what I want to do. I'm... I'm lost."

Deanna understands that feeling. It took her a while to find her passion. She feels bad for failing him but she knows he is unfit for University. "Tim, where do you live?"

"In residence."

"Would your roommate be concerned if you didn't return tonight?" She asks innocently.

Tim pauses. "What do you mean?" His voice got back some of its clarity and Deanna heard a tinge of worry.

"Shhhhh," She shushes him and massages his shin with the big toe of her other foot. "Just relax, breathe in and out. Let yourself rest. Answer the question, darling."

"No, he wouldn't care." Tim eventually says.

Deanna prompts him to take another sip of the tea and he manages to lift it to his mouth to drink another swig. As he lowers it down, the mug looks ready to slip from his fingers but Deanna reaches forward and takes it from him. The tea is almost all gone, barely surpassing the tea bag at the bottom of the cup. She places it back onto her desk.

With one foot on his knee the other foot rests between his leg, inches from his crotch. "You must jerk off, right Timmy?"

He answers with a sluggish head nod. She asks, "How often?"

"Once a day." He responds.

"Just can't keep your hands away, huh?" Deanna then asks, "do you like feet?"

His nose scrunches. "Feet? No." He sounds almost disgusted.

"Good." Deanna says with a smile. "You see dear, I love having my feet tended to. Ever since I was your age I loved it when boyfriends had a thing for feet. But here's the thing, Timmy. If you had a foot fetish then my hypnosis wouldn't give me very clear results." One foot touches his crotch while the other approaches his face. "Sniff." She commands and without thinking he obeys, breathing in the odor that emanates off her sole which is barely an inch from his face. It's strong and attacks his nostrils, his face wrinkles in revulsion. Her feet have been in those tight leather heels all day and all night, and inside nylon pantyhose during all that time too. The silky material inches from Tim's face radiates off a strong vinegary smell, one that is sharp and cuts right through the young man's nose.

"You hate the smell, don't you?" Deanna asks, to which Tom nods. "Good." She says, "That way, when I turn you into a mindless foot fetishist and an obsessed slave, I will know my experiment is properly evaluating your mind's ability to be subjugated to external change. Forced external change, that is."

The words Deanna spoke lost their meaning to Tim as they washed over him in a slur. Tim was starting to drift off. The balls of Deanna's feet move closer to Tim until her soft soles and long and strong toes press against his face, the nylon pantyhose damp with sweat which rubs into Tim's nose. Although his mind is sinking deeper and deeper into a daydream, his face is repelled in disgust but is powerless to escape Deanna's stubborn foot. As he squirms limply, her foot massages the smell into his face.

"Enough." Deanna has a slight grin as Tim's eyes flutter and try to focus on her. "Tim, can you still hear me?" She presses the foot that rests between his legs into his crotch, hard enough to get his attention but not enough to cause any pain.

Tim is able to turn his gaze to her, nodding. "Yes Professor."

"Good boy." She replies, wiggling her toes on his crotch to feel his cock through his pants. It was gradually getting harder, from her teasing him but also from the tea. "Tim, I'm going to help you."

In response, he beams with brightness as if the way has become clear to him. Before he can thank her, she continues, "But first you need to help me. I need a... volunteer for my next experiment. You need a direction for your future. It just so happens that a personal assistant position can fix both of our respective problems."

Tim could barely register what she was talking about so he just nodded dumbly. "Okay."

She smiles at his naivety. "Oh Timmy, you don't get a choice in the matter. You made it clear you can't be trusted with your own future, so for now, I'll have to be in control of it. But don't worry dear, you'll end up having an absolutely wonderful time at my feet."

Tim thinks for a moment then opens his jaw to speak but Deanna interrupts him. "Timmy, you need to listen to me and obey one more time. Be a good boy and go to sleep."

Before he can get a word out, her soft words find their resting place in his mind causing his eyes to fall shut and him fall unconscious.

--

Deanna watches as the boy's eyes flutter before finally closing. She waits a moment to make sure that he is sufficiently out, she hears his slow steady breathing and figures he is fast asleep. As he slumbers, she stands up and begins to pack up her things. She pours the tea out but places the tea bag in a plastic ziploc bag to save for later. She packs up the exams and her laptop and slides both into her briefcase before heading to the large wooden cabinet against one of the walls. Inside is a great large suitcase, one she has used yearly since her tenure began to lug papers back and forth from her office to her home once the school year was over. Tonight, however, she would be hauling home her sleepy, stupid boy.

He was heavy but not unmanageable, she drags him by the armpits and lays him in the open suitcase which she laid flat on the ground. He fit snuggly, he was not a large man, being shorter than her. She slips his shoes and socks behind his legs and lays his jacket over him like a blanket. Although she has no reason to do so beyond her own satisfaction and pleasure, she steps out of her heels and pulls off her pantyhose and places the insole of her heel around his nose before tying it to his face with the pantyhose, giving him stinky air to breathe in on the journey to her place. She smiles down at the boy stuffed in the suitcase. He was cute, she was excited. She zips up the suitcase but not all the way, just in case (she giggles at the pun) he needs more air in there, she thought not but better to verge on the side of caution.

It takes some strength to lift the suitcase onto his wheels. She slips her bare feet in her flats before turning off her office light and closing the door.

As she wheels him out, her colleague and friend Christa is coming out of her office. "Packing up early?" Christa points to the suitcase which she can tell is heavy from how Deanna is pulling it.

"Yeah, I figured I might as well start moving some stuff out of the office before summer starts. Although God knows I don't need the extra paperwork, I already have a mountain of exams I need to burn through."

Christa smiles, nods and leaves Deanna to her business, unbeknownst to her that her business was turning one of her students into a mindless foot fetishist. Oh, what a summer it will be!

--

Tim was unconscious for a while. The tea was doing its job wonderfully and kept him out long enough for her to drive back home where she had a nice, moderate, yet lavish home near the heart of downtown Elm Haven. It was a townhouse in a good neighborhood, an unsuspecting neighborhood better yet. Sure, having a kidnapped young man in a townhouse where all of your neighbors are just a couple walls away isn't necessarily the best idea, but Deanna Messina was nothing if not smart (her PHDs said so, after all) and this was not her first rodeo, so to speak. Truthfully, she had never done anything half as brazen as kidnap a student of hers and haul him across town to her residence, but she had taken a few lovers home, hit them with a sleepy-time cocktail and had her way with them. After she was done with them their heads were so muddled and their cocks so hard that they didn't have much time to think about what had just happened to them. Plus, she knew most men wouldn't want to make a fuss about being taken advantage of by a woman for some misplaced, masculinity-affecting reason. Not that she would complain, it was quite beneficial for her.

She lugs the suitcase up the three steps into her place then down the ten steps into her basement. When one thinks of a basement where a victim is bound, they usually think of some dingy, dark and drab place, yet the D-words that could describe Deanna's basement were delightful, deluxe and delectable. The walls are covered in bright and rich red coloured curtains which scream elegance and hide the soundproofing foam wedges that blanket the room. In the corner is a large suede maroon sofa with ebony wood legs and polished brass detailing along with a matching chair that is positioned towards the centre of the room and on a raiser, a position of authority. Beneath it is a Persian area rug with the base colour the same as the chair and sofa cushions and its pattern is a brilliant gold. Small lamps hang on the walls lighting the room in a bright amber hue but can be dimmed to a low and intimate shade. There is a table on the other end of the sofa, a similar (but, frankly, not as nice) dark wood and behind that was a great tall cabinet which housed the supplies Deanna used to make her subjects nice and malleable.

Where Tim will be staying is not as nice given it was technically (although Deanna would never use the word) a cell. Thick iron bars cordon off a sizable corner at the bottom of the stairs. There is a valance along the top and a sliding curtain along the sides. The inside of his home is furnished as comfortably as possible with another Persian rug, an expensive and well-made twin sized bed with the best bedding she could find, a cozy table pushed against the bars where there is a slot to slide in meals and lastly a small shelf with a couple of pairs of shoes and pantyhose. Both the shoes and nylons have been worn by her previously and have not been washed since. In fact, her footprint stains the insoles of the shoes. She knew he wouldn't care for either, but she hopes it is at least an incentive for him to start becoming interested in her feet. At the very least, it made for some good decor.